Chapter Five

Confrontations

Captain Jonathan Archer stopped outside quarters D/147 and took a deep breath, fighting down his emotions to the point where they were under his control, with little risk of the other. Flanking him was Sub-Commander T'Pol, there for an unemotional, pragmatic input and Commander Charles Tucker, his closest friend, there for some down home observations and to keep him on a level. To his right, in front of room D/145, stood two armed Security Officers. He acknowledged them with a nod as they stood guard over the delegate / prisoner.

Taking another deep, steadying breath, he raised his hand to the door controls, finding it clenched into a tight fist. He forced himself to relax, to open his hand, to put on a diplomatic mask, and pressed the annunciation button.

A few seconds later, the door slid open and Archer found himself face to chest with Kapaar, First Maav. He looked up, meeting the Capellan's eyes. "I want to speak to the Teer." He was glad that these people were direct in all their dealings; he was in no mood for the flowery language of diplomacy.

"Captain Archer may enter." The voice of the tribal leader came from within the room and Kapaar stood aside. Akaar was seated in a chair as Archer strode into the room, and the man showed no intent to stand, something that Archer was quite content with. He had no desire to crane his neck looking at the tall alien. "I am told," Akaar began without preliminary, "that my Second Maav is not permitted to leave his room."

"Your Second Maav raped one of my officers."

Even as he said it, the words felt strange in Archer's mouth. They were so provocative he would never have imagined using them in a diplomatic session – until now.

"Are we not guests in your vessel? The custom of receptance -."

"Is one you knew we do not practice!" Archer forced himself to pause, trying not to let his outrage get the better of him – yet. "It is not an Earth custom; I made that quite clear to you before you boarded."

"Then, if we have exceeded your hospitality, I apologize. And now, Captain, to the subject of this topaline you seek…"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Archer demanded. "This is not 'exceeding hospitality'. This is an affront to one of my officers!"

"If she is your woman, is it not right for her to perform service on your behalf?"

Archer stared at Akaar, so outraged as to be stricken nearly speechless. "You don't understand. First, the … forceful … sexual …" He gave up trying to work out how to make himself clear. "The rape of a woman is, to humans, intolerable. It is not permitted!"

"Why? Even if Saal did not understand your earlier instructions on your small ship about the custom of receptance, why have this concern over the taking of a woman?"

"Because it is forbidden!" Archer said tightly, trying his very best to keep control of his tone.

"You mean for a human to put women to their primary use."

"Yes." He grated, infuriated even more at this cavalier attitude.

"Fortunately, we are not human. Now, as to the matter of Saal's release, you will of course grant him his liberty."

How Jonathan Archer ever kept his temper he was never sure. His voice was quieted in such a deadly quality that if he raised it the Capellan would fall lifeless at his feet. "No. Saal stays in his room, under guard, while you are here. He has violated one of our most basic laws, to say nothing of abusing hospitality to almost staggering proportions."

"I do not agree."

"You are not on your world. You are on my starship."

Akaar stared up at him. If by remaining seated he had thought to put himself in a position of power, he quickly realized that it did him no good. Archer was as much in command here, even though being 'obliged' to stand, as Akaar was on the surface.

Or perhaps maybe humans saw things differently. Maybe in standing, Archer saw himself in the position of power. It was something to consider – later.

Right now, there was no loss in conceding a point that could be won later. Further, it would not do well for him to admit that he valued or needed the advice of his two Maavs equally. "Very well, Saal may stay where he is." He said, inclining his head just the slightest, trying to project the image of a sovereign granting a tiny concession to a subject, not like how he really felt.

"And now, Captain, as to the matter of the topaline, I have some questions regarding its use, particularly how much you will be wanting, and how it is to be gathered and from where."

Archer settled his mind into the negotiation, trying to push aside his sustained outrage and get into the business. Hopefully things could be wrapped up soon, and he could bid an eagerly sought farewell to these three.

Privately, he doubted the universe would be so kind.

xxx

In the Mess Hall at 1700 that evening, at Alpha Shift's dinner, the room was fairly crowded, though the conversation was normally low. Thus, the sound of the door opening could be heard clearly, and even the low tones of sporadic conversations were diminished when Dina Samuels entered. Though what had happened earlier that day was not open news, it was something that was impossible to keep silent, and nearly half the people in Alpha Shift knew about it. Dina could hear it in their silence; see it on their faces, in the solicitous looks of sympathy or support she saw.

She'd allowed Phlox's touch, with Mother McCabe present for moral support, as he'd treated the blackened eyes and swollen face, and the other more intimate and humiliating wounds, but it was only her body that had been healed.

She was humiliated with herself for having reached out to McCabe, feeling it a sign of weakness, but she could not stand to have Phlox treat her without the other woman's support. So she had allowed it, grateful and humiliated though she was by every aspect of the situation.

Now she was released, declared physically fit though relieved of duty until further notice, with promises of help from her friends. Those promises were humiliating in themselves, though she was grateful for them.

Now she stood just inside the door of the Mess Hall, having forced herself to come in. She did not know why she was here; she wasn't hungry and was sure she would never be hungry again. She was here because it was Seventeen-Hundred and she had to be somewhere. She'd forced herself to come in, forced herself now to stay, but she could not manage to force herself to step in.

She just wanted to turn and leave, but would not. She had never run from a fight, from a hardship, from a challenge, and this time was going to be no different! She'd lost a fight, been beaten and ra– she'd been ra– but she would not give in! She would not show weakness. She'd been beaten; she'd been ra–. She would not show weakness!

Forcing a mask of nonchalance onto her face, she looked around the room, spotting Trip Tucker at a table with Hoshi Sato, Liz Cutler and Tia Anlor. She strolled over to them with strictly enforced casualness. "Hi, everybody." She said brightly. They greeted her, noting her high mood.

x

"How are you?" Liz asked. Of all the people in the large room, she alone knew all the details, acting as she had as 'Advocate' for her friend and Life Sciences associate.

"Well, I'm relieved of duty for a while, so I'm kind of on a mini-vacation for a day or so." She looked at Trip, shaking her head in mild disapproval. "Commander, if you get any longer, I'm going to have to requisition a violin for you."

"Excuse me?" He asked, quite lost. She seemed exceptionally; unexpectedly cheerful. When he had found out what had happened to her, he'd wanted to join his good buddy Malcolm in solving the problem with an airlock; so this casualness in her, and that odd statement, caught him completely off guard.

"Your hair." Dina said in explanation. "It's crossing the border from scruffy to I-don't-know-what." He ran his hand through his short hair. It was quite in regulation, and she had fixed him up not three weeks ago. "Really, what are people going to think, you running around like you should have a ribbon in your hair? You should come down to the shop and let me fix you up." Her manner was so relaxed, so casual, that it could be read all the way across the room for the fragile sham it was.

Trip looked up at her, her message to him thoroughly clear. "You know, I think you're right." He agreed. "I'm overdue for a trim." He glanced at the others; they had not missed the intended message either. "See you later, ladies."

He touched Tia's hand as he stood up and followed the smiling woman out of the room.

x

Hoshi, Liz and Tia were about to speculate upon this unusual event when the three women at the table next to them stood up, two leaving the room immediately, Jennifer Farber from Geology going to another table where a man and woman were seated, the dark woman bending over to whisper something into the other woman's ear. Jennifer then went to another table, speaking quietly to the two women there. A moment later she came over to the table where the trio sat watching. "Women's meeting, here, twenty three hundred. Women only." Without waiting for questions, she turned and left the room.

"What was that all about?" Liz asked.

Hoshi shrugged. "We'll find out at twenty three hundred."

xxx

Trip walked along the corridor with a very animated and vibrant Dina Samuels, and was not fooled for an instant. Her manner was so much more than like her old self it seemed almost a parody of it, as if she were trying to force her own natural behavior, her own mannerisms, when they just did not want to come.

He was patient, however. When she got him alone she would certainly relax and tell him what was on her mind. Until then, he let her keep up a steady stream of empty, pleasant chatter about nothing at all.

They turned right after a short distance and strolled down the corridor that cut across the saucer to its opposite side as if they did not have a care in the world. He listened with half an ear to her chatter, not sure if it was for his benefit, hers, or to mislead the occasional crewperson they passed that nothing was wrong. It was, he realized, actually all three, and he let it continue until they reached her 'shop'.

In reality, the 'barbershop' was nothing more than an unused storage compartment some eight feet square, barely room for a chair, a few shelves and a lighted mirror. It had been an afterthought when it was realized that the Enterprise's design had taken no pains to include facilities for keeping the crew from looking like 'beatnicks' less than six weeks out from Earth.

Dina, having some skill and willingness, had set the room up for her use in keeping the crew well groomed; for looking their best so that when they sought out strange new worlds, they would not look as though they had come from one.

x

They entered, the door closing behind them. Trip carefully avoided any change in expression as she locked it.

"Have a seat, Commander. This won't take long." She promised, shaking out a blue sheet and covering him with it as he faced the mirror.

"Never does. Especially when you did it less than three weeks ago."

She hesitated for a beat; then recovered quickly, taking her place behind him. "But you want to look your best for your lovely young lady, don't you?" He held up his hand to her reflection.

"Dina, I'd much rather you tell me what's on your mind."

"Nothing." She said lightly, her smile bright. It was almost as forced as a Vulcan's would be. "Really." She picked up a pair of scissors from the tray beside the chair. "I'm relieved of duty today. I've got nothing to do but sit in my room all day if I want. I figured I'd get some haircutting in, because I have to be useful somewhere, don't I?"

"Yes." Trip agreed carefully, not sure how to handle this. Her final words would normally have been expressed with frustration or anger, but those feelings were so tightly restrained, so forcibly buried, that he could barely find them.

x

Trip tried to keep his own thoughts to himself, but it was hard. He recalled a day some weeks ago in this very room, when she had faced him down with a pair of scissors, willing to risk her career when she thought he was going to harm Tia Anlor. Now that fire and determination were lost under a mask of pleasantness, a veneer of calm and a flood of inane chatter. For all the lightness of her manner, she seemed equally fragile.

"Cutting hair; it's very relaxing. And so rewarding. I can see the fruits of my work everywhere I go. Not like lab work in Life Sciences. This is far more rewarding, don't you think? Everyone comes to me – absolutely everyone."

"Yes. And you do a good job."

"Thank you. You're so sweet, Trip. You know, Trip – I may call you Trip, may I?"

"Sure." She had always called him 'Commander', as befit an Ensign, but her 'casual' use of his nickname bespoke as much the fracturing of her self-control as anything else did.

"I got raped this afternoon and most of the ship knows it." Her tone was light, bright, and to Trip's ear sliding a touch to the hysterical. The word 'raped' had come out half an octave high. "I fought him … I fought him … but it didn't work. I did almost beat the hell out of the Captain, however! Did he tell you that?"

"No, he didn't." Trip carefully held his surprise as Dina, with comb and scissors, started working on the hairs behind his neck.

"Well, let's see. I ran into Lt. Reed after I got up; fainted dead away in his arms in fact. Bet he was surprised!" She tried to laugh, but it cracked instantly and she stopped. Behind it was a flood of grief she simply would not allow expression.

"I dare say." He agreed carefully as she stood motionless for a long moment. But then she regained – actually forced – her control and continued; pretending the slip had never happened.

"Then Liz, she was with me for a long time, and Phlox, he took care of me. But Liz is really a dear; she promised to be available to talk any time I want, day or night. Can you beat that? Then Captain Archer came in and I went battier than Phlox's bat!" She giggled at her own joke, but it was high and forced.

She continued working, but he wondered if she was actually cutting any hair, or just going through the motions. He watched her face in the mirror as she worked. Her expression was as bright as her voice was light, and both were like so much crystal. "And then Mother McCabe came in to talk, and I told – told her all – all about it." Her voice broke and her expression started to fracture as her hands grew uncertain, her movements vague. "There really was so … so much to tell. I mean, I got – raped, didn't I?" Her voice broke again and she tried to regain her fracturing control.

But the harder she tried, the more elusive it became. Trip began to grow concerned by her increasingly chaotic hand movements while she was holding a pair of sharp scissors behind his neck, but said nothing. He tried to keep his expression calm and supportive.

"Then Lt. Reed came back in and I had to tell everything all over again, get all the details right, didn't I? I mean, I wanted to forget, but I – I have – had to tell it all. The details, right? I had to get them right. Investigation and all. Diplomacy." Her voice was fracturing even more seriously. "Then, then I find out that - that it's all - so Starfleet can get some topaline. Actually, a lot of topaline!" She snapped sharply. "No, wait, I found out about that from the Captain. Not after I beat him up; the second time. Starfleet wants its topaline, you see. It's important. We use it – use it for life support systems; filters. Did you know that?"

"Yes." He said softly.

"So, Starfleet gets - its topaline, and all – all I - have to do - is get raped! Some deal, isn't it? Except I didn't know that part – part until it was all over! I just thought – I thought I was escorting some dignitaries to their quarters, you know? I didn't know I was the payment!" Her voice broke completely and she backed away, her hands shaking violently. He turned around in the chair but did not come any closer. "Quite a deal - don't you think? Quite a – quite a - ." She didn't even seem to see him anymore as she began to tremble.

Trip reached out for the intercom panel. "Tucker to Phlox."

"Phlox here."

"You're needed in the barbershop."

"On my way." As he closed the circuit Dina looked up, seeming to see him again.

"I don't need Phlox!" Tears were trailing down her cheeks.

"He'll help you."

"I don't need him!" She cried; barely held control shattering. Tears streamed down her eyes as she backed away, pleading. "I need… I need…"

"What?" Trip asked, getting up carefully, removing the blue cloth and putting it aside, not getting any closer; not wanting to crowd her. "What do you need? I'll get it. Whatever you need, I promise you'll have it."

"I need… I need… Oh GOD!" She cried, sobbing loudly as she fell slowly to her knees. "Oh GOD, what I need!"

She knelt looking up at him, unable to speak, silent tears streaming down her face.

x

"Dina, talk to me." He said in his gentlest tones. "It's just you and me. You locked the door so we could talk. I won't even let Phlox in if you don't want me to. We all want to help you. Just talk to me."

"I – I want to. I want to – to trust you. Tia – she tells me – you can be trusted! You don't – hurt people. I need – need someone – I can trust!"

Trip came down on one knee so she would not have to look up at him, but kept close to the chair, trying not to crowd her. "Dina, talk to me." Dina tried not to sob, tried to keep her expression, her voice, under control, but her efforts fragmented her breath and shattered her voice.

"I'm not – not weak. Not like this!" She protested, reaching up to dry her eyes. But finding the scissors still in her right hand, she dropped them to the floor where they landed with a ringing clatter. She rubbed her eyes, her face, trying to erase the evidence of her tears. "I'm stronger than this!"

"Yes, you are." He said softly.

"I won't be broken – but he bro –." She looked at him, pleading for his understanding. "He bro –. Do you have any idea what he did to me?" Trip considered a comforting fabrication, but chose the truth instead.

"No, I don't think I really do."

She looked at him, blinking at stinging tears, grateful for his honesty. "He … he …" But she was unable to hold her fragile control any longer, and it broke as she started to sob, covering her face as long restrained and pent up emotions took their toll.

Trip would have gone to the weeping woman, put his arm about her, attempt to comfort her, but he knew that was the worst thing he could try.

When the annunciation chime sounded, Trip stood up, unlocked and opened the door. Neither he nor Phlox, however, approached the woman as she knelt on the floor, weeping.